


Truffles and A Son's Troubles

by queeniesye



Series: Summer Bake... or Beyond? [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drama, Mother-Son Relationship, One Shot Collection, Other, Slice of Life, Spin Off, Written in Denzel's POV, feel good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queeniesye/pseuds/queeniesye
Summary: Denzel had to come to terms with his foster mother, Tifa Lockhart's developing relationship with her client and baking tutee, Cloud Strife.
Relationships: Denzel & Cloud Strife, Denzel & Tifa Lockhart, Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Series: Summer Bake... or Beyond? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935109
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Truffles and A Son's Troubles

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, a spin off! There's less focus on the relationship between Cloud and Tifa, and more on Denzel's POV as the original story was happening. This is written to explore the complexity of Denzel's bond with Tifa.

Annoying.

For Denzel, that was the best word to describe Cloud, who would hung around Tifa like a fool, with his grins and overenthusiasm for pastries and cakes. It was on one of the hottest summer evenings, with hardly any breeze when Cloud first came to their home. Air-conditioners were switched on to their full capacities, moths gathered and flickered wherever there was light nearby; swimming pools at residential lawns were not short of people dipping in, regardless of time, and supplies of ice creams at stores were running out as dry throats sought for relief. From the moment Denzel answered the door for Cloud, he already disliked the dishonest smile Cloud was giving him.

Cloud’s first visit was, however, not Denzel’s first introduction to this man. Tifa had spoken about him to Denzel quite a number of times since the beginning of summer. A certain _cool_ -looking someone that she named as ‘Mr. Strife’ had her impressed with his commitment to attending her summer classes and frequenting her cafés and patisseries. When Tifa told him about her receiving Cloud’s requests to design a wedding cake and dessert palate for his best friend, Denzel could tell that she was flattered. It meant the world for him to see Tifa glow with delight whenever she talked about her work being celebrated… but there was something else about Cloud that was bothering him.

“He’ll be coming to our home more often now… for personal baking lessons with me,” Tifa said, to Denzel’s dismay.

He was right to be suspicious of Cloud. The Cloud he met for the first time seemed nothing like the _eager_ Mr. Strife he so often heard from Tifa. He was reserved, almost moody and outwardly uninterested in performing the tasks that he had to do during his baking lesson. Occasionally, Denzel would take a peek at the kitchen and caught him staring into space. From the eventual shift in Tifa’s delicate tone of speaking, to one that expressed more assertiveness out of her, Denzel knew that Cloud’s behaviour was bothering her too.

As time continued to tick, the show on television was becoming dreary and no longer able to hold Denzel’s interest. Outside, dogs barked as they had territorial fights in their own little world; cicadas clinging onto tree trunks made clicking sounds, and hot air blew across the earth. Denzel’s phone constantly lit up and buzzed as his friends actively sent text messages to the online group they ran. In a span of a few minutes, he was receiving photos of mischievous pets, dinner meals and screenshots of video game playthroughs. The smell of baked pastry and meat wafting from the kitchen got him too engrossed with what was going on there to care about answering the text messages. With a remote controller, he lowered down the volume of the television, making it easier for him to eavesdrop on Tifa and Cloud’s conversations – if they were to have one.

Things took a turn for the worse – at least from his point of view. 

“I assume… that boy is your son?” he heard Cloud asking, to which Tifa confirmed that he was indeed her son. The nerve of that man! What else could he be to Tifa, if not _her son_? Denzel wanted to storm out of the living room to yell at Cloud for asking such a stupid question. Cloud mentioning about a _husband_ , a mark of his obliviousness to the common practice of fostering children in Midgar, was nothing short of infuriating to Denzel too.

Tifa corrected Cloud’s misconceptions, “I… fostered him after the collapse of Sector 7.”

As though bolstered by some sort of mystical powers, her words led Denzel to withdraw into his memories, where he was carried into a time when he could see himself again as the boy in a shabby clothing – the only thing he had left, always waking up famished and running around abandoned old cities looking for food – scraps thrown by those living in the new cities, or meat from pests that he managed to capture and kill. The day he met Tifa, he was hungry – _so_ hungry that he ended up climbing into Sector 5 of the new city and begging for food outside one of her cafés. The city had no love or care for those like him; they would almost certainly be chased away and treated like vermin. But Tifa was different.

She welcomed him into the café and provided him with different choices of pastries for him to gobble down. “Say… what do you think about becoming my son?” When Tifa offered him this sudden and bewildering proposition, he had a hard time believing that it was true. He questioned her motives, but Tifa saw through his doubt. “Of course… I don’t intend to replace your mother but… I would really love to have you as my son.”

He was quick to accept her offer, knowing that it would make life easier for him… except it did not. Not only did he had a hard time adjusting to life of sleeping under a roof due to nightmares and panic attacks about being trapped in a crumbling building, he was also struggling with having a newfound family. Tifa was nothing but kind to him, but she was _not_ his mother – at least not by blood. Often times, he found himself thinking about his mother and comparing Tifa to her. He noticed all that was lacking about Tifa, but not enough of the good in her. This became a regular source of their quarrels… up to a point where Tifa was at her wit’s end and gave him the opportunity to leave if he wanted to.

“I won’t hold it against you if you choose to do so… because clearly, this is not working for the both of us.” He would not forget the grief expressed from her eyes. Those words slipped out of her mouth like they were heavy on her tongue. He realized then that she had fostered him for a reason that he could most relate to: she was as lost as he was, and needed someone – an anchor to feel her feet moving on familiar grounds again. So he chose to stay, and promised to try his best to work on his relationship with her. They had been doing fine ever since.

Returning his body once again to the living room, Denzel heard the sound of Cloud’s voice as he talked about hailing from Nibelheim, a town surrounded by mountains that was burned down several years ago – just like she did. Words uttered by Cloud were like fire in his ears, sending spinning sensations to his head that almost made him retch. It was becoming harder to breathe, and the visions he had of the living room were warped by whirlpools that only he could see. _Strange_ , he thought… the last time he felt this way was when he laid eyes on the lifeless bodies of his parents underneath concrete rubbles.

“Denzel!” The echo of Tifa’s voice as she called his name compelled his mind to sort itself out for him to recollect his senses. Amassing enough strength, he pushed his body to rise and walk out of the room. His entry to the kitchen was met with both of Tifa and Cloud’s gazes. “Come and try this,” she said with a smile as she presented him with a plate of baked golden samosas.

One bite out of the crunchy triangular shaped pastry and he tasted the savoury tang of herbs, spices and potatoes on his tongue. He gave a compliment to Tifa, and offered Cloud a passing remark, “You should come here more often, Mister, so Tifa would bake more of these. She never does.” He was not sure why he said it… but when he saw Cloud laughed, he wished that he had not.

***

Vivid graffiti coloured the grey concrete ramps assembled in a skate park somewhere at the heart of Sector 4, Midgar’s new city. The sun was hidden behind tall green trees surrounding the area, but the intensity of its heat was seeping through fabrics and burning up exposed skins. Sitting on handrails were teenagers wearing protective sunglasses, conversing rowdily with one another as they savoured melting popsicles. Skateboarders glided on the ramps with precision and skills honed by years of practice; onlookers cheered when successful landings were made. On a patch of grass beyond the gated park, Denzel sat with legs folded and arms stretched behind as he secured his hands on the ground for support. Staring into the distance, his mind was reliving a moment that he was struggling to reason with.

A girl with bobbed hair entered into the vicinity and settled beside him with her skateboard still in her hands. “Hellooooooo? Earth to Denzel.” When he did turned to her with a vacant look in his eyes, she fretted, “What’s the matter? You’re so out of it today.”

He dropped his back onto the ground and shut his eyes. “They… almost kissed, Marlene.”

“Who did?”

He sighed heavily and wished that he did not have to answer her question. “Tifa… and Cloud. If I hadn’t gone to the kitchen to get those cakes… they probably would have kissed already.”

“Oh… that’s why you were so quiet when you got back into the room,” Marlene said, recalling the recent video gaming night they had at his home. “Why do you have a problem with them... kissing, anyway?”

Miffed by Marlene’s inability to understand what he was trying to convey, he glared at her, “I just don’t like it, ok?” The ambiguity in his choice of words was upsetting him too. 

Marlene’s decision not to push for an explanation out of him suggested her familiarity with his behaviour. “Well… does Tifa seemed happy then, at least?” she reframed her question instead.

“She’s not bothered that’s for sure,” he answered, shaking his head. “But that’s not the issue. I just don’t want that man anywhere near her.”

Marlene furrowed her eyebrows, her confusion and frustration evident. “Why would you not want Tifa to be happy?” When Denzel gave her no answer, she pressed on, “What are you afraid of, Denzel?”

A tinge of sorrow was clawing in his chest over her question. Around his hands, he felt the warmth of Tifa’s touch when she first held him. Memories of the times when Tifa had given him a smile crossed his mind… these moments felt fleeting, almost as though they would disappear, never to be experienced again if he do not firmly grasp onto them. His tongue froze; there were no words that could accurately capture what he was feeling. He could only muster the strength to give Marlene a look that he himself was unsure of how it seemed, though he could feel his misery drooping the features on his face.

The change in her expression meant that she finally understood what he was trying to tell her. She may be two years younger than he was, but she was wiser. “Denzel… you know that Tifa loves you, right?” When Denzel nodded slightly, she added, “So you matter to her more than you think you are. Even if she finds happiness from someone else… aside from you, she’s never going to leave you.”

Denzel clenched his fists, irked that he could not find a reason to refute her. Her words sounded sensible to his mind, but his heart refused to compromise. From afar, he heard the shriek made by one of their friends, calling them to return to the skate park. Marlene yelled back telling the friend to give them a few more minutes. When she looked at him again, she extended a hand to help him get up. As he gazed at her palm, he felt the budding feeling of determination to prove to her that Cloud did not, and will never make Tifa happy.

***

Mild breeze was bringing respite to the searing summer heat of a Monday afternoon. Outside a small convenience store, a middle-aged man was seated on a square plastic stool, waving a hand fan in one of his hands to keep himself cool, while greeting and nodding his head in gratitude to customers who came and left. A woman with a high ponytail walked past him, holding a poodle by a red leather leash. On the other side of the road, a pair peddled their bikes and laughed about racing one another to a predetermined finish line that only they knew where. At private backyards, people sat on grasses and lounge chairs to read and sunbathe. Skateboarding on the sidewalk and chewing on a sticky bubble gum that was discolouring in his mouth was Denzel, on his way home after the end of school hours.

It had been three days since the Friday that Tifa left for a vacation with Cloud and his friends, promising to return on that Monday. He found no trouble with her leaving him to Wedge’s care. Wedge was always a fun companion to be with and he had a tendency of spoiling him with food and unlimited hours of video gaming – a _cool_ adult. Nonetheless, Denzel would be lying if he were to say that he had no qualms about Tifa spending more time than usual with Cloud. He wanted to reach home as soon as he possibly could to detect any changes that might have happened to her because of the trip. It only took him a couple of steps into his home to catch the smell of melted chocolate drifting from the kitchen. Tifa was by the island counter, rolling hardened chocolate mixtures into balls and dipping them in cocoa powder, crushed nuts and colourful sprinkles.

A radiant smile defined the shape of her lips when she saw him. “Hi there, baby! Want some truffles?”

He moved to take a sit on a stool at the corner of the island counter and peered uneasily at her. Creamy liquefied chocolate spread in his mouth as he munched on one of the truffles. “So… how was the trip?” he probed, making a point to sound as casual as possible. 

Tifa retrieved another bowl of chocolate mixture out of the refrigerator and set it on the island. Taking a scoop of the mixture into her hand, she started rolling it into a ball like the rest of them that she had done. “It’s… good. I had fun,” she said, with a manner that was betraying the inner turmoil that he knew she was having. There was only one reason why she would be making truffles; the last time he saw her did them was a day after she failed in acquiring a deal to open another branch of her patisserie at Wutai.

“Will Cloud be coming here again tomorrow for a baking lesson?” he purposely asked, knowing that some of their baking sessions were often scheduled on Tuesday nights.

Without looking at him, she confirmed his guess about the trouble in her and Cloud’s paradise, “Afraid not. I’m moving the sessions to one of my patisseries.”

Indeed, he did not need the full details from her to understand that she was having issues with Cloud. After successfully serving for guests at her client’s, Cloud’s best friend’s wedding, the problems that they had seemed to exacerbate. Tifa hardly made any effort to cover them up, or if she did, the black circles underneath her eyes and her puffy face could not lie to him. Cloud was also no longer frequenting their home. Denzel welcomed the changes that were taking place because he was, after all, not wrong about what he wanted to attest to Marlene – Cloud was giving Tifa anything _but_ happiness.

The feeling of triumph _changed_ during a particular quiet summer midnight, when there was hardly any sound coming from outdoors except for the gentle rustling of trees and occasional beeping of cars belonging to neighbours that had just arrived home after working overtime. The thirst for water woken him up from his sleep that was supposed to be a nap. Pacing through the ground floor hallway as he made his way to the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of Tifa, Wedge and Yuffie in the living room through the window on the closed door. He could tell from the redness of her eyes, and the way her chest rose and fell in quick consecutive beats that she was sobbing. The presence of two other important figures in her life during late night hours could only mean that she was also in desperate need of help. Finding a dark corner near the living room door, he hid himself with the hope that he would not get caught listening into their conversations.

“I just… don’t know what to do. I don’t even understand myself. I told him to stay away but I can’t stand not having him around at all,” it was a first for Denzel to hear such a raw expression of her feelings about Cloud. Agony, bitterness and longing shaped the sound of her voice as she fought to speak them out in between sobs.

A shrilled voice returned a reply to her, almost with exhaustion. It belonged to Yuffe, the one often lacking in patience. “You’re always wishy-washy, Tifa. Less thinking, and feel more from here,” Denzel could not see what she was referring to but assumed it was something that Tifa possessed. “What does your heart say?”

A brief moment of silence was shared between the trio for some time, until Tifa muttered, “I shouldn’t have hurt him like that…” she was shifting the subject of their conversation away, but Denzel knew exactly what her answer to Yuffie’s question would be.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Tifa. He’ll forgive you… he’ll understand if you tell him, I’m sure,” a reassuring remark given by someone of gentle nature that he was most acquainted with – Wedge. 

Within him, Denzel felt his growing revulsion with himself bubbling. He wished he could turn back time to erase the instances when he had actually rejoiced over Tifa’s desolation, albeit unknowingly. Failing to remember what he was supposed to be doing, he dashed upstairs back to his room, locked himself in and dialled a number to talk to someone he knew would lend a listening ear to him, irrespective of the hour.

A groggy girl answered after the fourth toot. “Denzel…? Why are you calling at this late?”

“I… I feel stupid, Marlene,” he stammered as he sat onto his bed. “Tifa’s hurting and I shouldn’t have been happy about it. I was wrong.”

Her sleepiness seemed to have swiftly ceased, replaced by the concern creeping in the tone of her voice as she asked, “What happened?”

“He… means a lot to her. Cloud, I mean… but he’s gone. And she’s… crying about it.”

He heard her sighed. “Denzel… I think she really needs you right now. Give her your support… even if that’s the last thing that you want to do.”

An owl perched on a tree branch outside his bedroom windows was hooting. The air humidifier that he had left turned on since several hours ago continued to release whiffs of smoke and the aromatic scent of pandan leaves. Buzzing summer bees attracted to the light from his room searched in futile for a way in. From downstairs, he heard the shuffling of footsteps on the floorboards, telling him that the trio might have moved from the living room to someplace else. He was lying on his bed, thinking about Tifa’s tearful face and how much he wanted to stop it.

***

“Do you love him?”

It was a week since Tifa came home in her new burgundy dress, looking dishevelled and less glamourous than the night before. Denzel could tell that her date night with Cloud, and staying over at his place had left her feeling a little _embarrassingly_ tipsy and content. He chose not to probe; the improved state of her condition and mood were all that he had hoped for to happen. Since then, she was a lot calmer than she ever was since she started getting to know Cloud personally. Sitting with a bed head at the island counter in her favourite worn out t-shirt and boxers, she was browsing through the morning newspaper while sipping on her mug of tea when he decided to confront her.

Munching on the banana muffin that she had baked for their morning breakfast, his eyes were fixed on her as he reiterated his question, “Do you love Cloud?”

She seemed taken aback, but was quick to regain her poise. “Yes… yes, I actually do.” Raising her eyebrows, she asked in return, “Are you… fine with that?”

“As long as you’re happy, Tifa.”

“Are you sure-” The ringing sound of the entrance doorbell called forth for her to answer whoever it was by the door, leaving her question unfinished and suspending in air. When she came back to the kitchen, she brought with her a companion – Cloud, who was carrying two bags of brown paper bags that Denzel presumed to be supplies for his and Tifa’s baking session.

“Back with the lessons, huh?” he asked Cloud with a smirk, almost teasingly.

Cloud immediately understood the intention behind his question and blushed. “Uhh… yeah. I’ll be under your care again… so please take care of me,” he stiffly bowed his head with an unnecessary air of formality that almost made Denzel chuckle.

“Well, I’ll have to go now,” he said, almost too keen to leave Tifa and Cloud to each other’s discretions. But he thought, he had to say something before making his exit, “I’m watching you, Cloud. Keep Tifa happy.”

Tifa was red and seemed ready to run her mouth in shame, to the detriment of his ears.

Standing beside her, Cloud appeared coy in response to his caution… but Denzel could discern the traces of certitude in him. A smile was crafted on Cloud’s lips as he said all the words that Denzel needed to hear from him, “I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Initially wanted to turn this into a few chapters so I can fully flesh out Denzel's character and further develop his relationship with Cloud. But... I was afraid that I might run out of ideas to keep the chapters going, so this became just a One Shot. But I hope it has at least captured the visions I had about the complicated feelings that *teenager* (emphasis here) Denzel feel about his foster mom!


End file.
